When Will You Be a Success?
By Tiffany Yates Martin | October 15, 2024 |
Therese here. Before we get to today’s regular post, we want to let you know Tiffany Yates Martin’s latest book, The Intuitive Author: How to Grow & Sustain a Happier Writing Career, releases today! Not only that, today’s post features content that’s in line with her book but didn’t make it into the final cut. In Tiffany’s own words:
I love this story, but it echoed a similar one I told about two local restaurateurs who put their whole heart into their pizza-and-pastrami restaurant (odd combination, I know, but man, it works). I wanted to cover a lot of ground in all the areas that are so essential to develop skills and I couldn’t afford anything redundant. But the William Shatner chapter made it in. :) There was no way I was cutting the Shat.
Enjoy, WU community. And congratulations, Tiffany!
Design by Camille LeMoine
Not long ago, the hubs and I and some friends went to see one of my favorite musicians at a space at the Austin City Limits Moody Theater, tickets I’d eagerly stood by to snatch up, finger poised over the “buy” button, the day they went on sale.
The venue was completely sold out. The woman next to us had driven up from Houston because his concerts had sold out there too before she could secure tickets. The fellow fans around me and I excitedly compared venues where we’d seen him, and talked about our favorite past shows and our hope of attending one of his annual fan retreats, while we danced for two hours straight with one another and along with the crowd, most of us singing along to every song.
This is the kind of response any artist might dream about, isn’t it?
But you may never have heard of Eric Hutchinson, the musician in question. The listening room at the Moody where I saw him was, like all the venues where I’ve seen him play, relatively small, maybe 150 people or so. He’s had only three songs even hit the Billboard charts, and his peak position never made it past 29.
I discovered him incidentally about 15 years ago, when I heard one of his singles on the radio, “Rock and Roll,” and as some songs sometimes do, it snagged my attention so hard I immediately went out and bought his entire debut CD (yes, CD), Sounds Like This.
Since then I’ve seen him live every time he’s come through Austin, and bought all his albums. On this tour he took the stage by himself, with three instruments he alternated playing, and that was it. Just a man and his music and a relatively modest number of die-hard fans, who call themselves Hutch-heads.
How a Creative Career Is Built
That night Eric told the story of that first album that had originally turned me into a fan, the 15th anniversary of which was the focus of this tour. He had been trying to make it as a musician, living at home with his parents in between touring, and was just about ready to give up on music as a career when he decided he didn’t want to let go of his dream without at least having created an album.
He scraped together all the money he could and produced it himself, at a time when this wasn’t particularly common, and released it to minimal fanfare.
He got a few bumps in popularity along the way. A major blogger of the time, Perez Hilton, featured his songs on his site as some of his favorites, and the next day Hutchinson said he woke up to “his birthday times a thousand,” messages and downloads for his song beyond anything he’d seen.
The album gained steam. He got some radio play, which is when I discovered him.
He stayed in the music game.
As the years went on his fan base grew and he continued to put out more albums and tour. A few years ago he got a call from the Olive Garden asking to use one of his songs in a national campaign—right before the pandemic hit, the world shut down, and every restaurant quit advertising because no one was going.
They pulled the spot. He lost the big-money ad-licensing gig. He sat at home, like the rest of the world, while COVID raged.
And he kept making music.
He’s now been working at this career for decades, and by some standards he may still not have “made it.” He still has fewer than 30,000 Instagram followers (not shabby by any measure, but not Springsteen either). He’s hovering somewhere in the music equivalent of the midlist.
And yet here he is, continuing to write and play his songs. He’s still making a career in the thing he loves best. He shows up onstage and one of the hallmarks of his live performances is his boundless energy and positivity and his sheer clear enjoyment of his craft and sharing it with audiences. Over the course of the evening he thanked us numerous times for listening to his music, for being there, for sharing the celebration of his first album with him.
I often think what it must be like to look out into a crowd of any size and see the majority of them singing along with your work, smiling, dancing, and clapping. The idea that something you created alone in a room that comes from and speaks to your own soul resonates with other people so much that it clearly has affected their lives. That they have listened to it so many times they know every word right along with you. That just hearing it and seeing you play it makes them happy.
I’ve been lucky enough to have moments where it was clear my creative work was connecting with someone on a powerful, deep level, that it meant something to them. There’s no feeling like it. It’s the clearest way I know to share the inside of you on the outside, to connect with other people at the core level of what makes each of you you.
Those moments live more in my mind than any paycheck I’ve ever cashed, any number of followers I’ve ever garnered.
I wonder if Eric Hutchinson feels like that too. I suspect he does. Every time I’ve seen him onstage, he seems jacked to be there, practicing his craft and sharing it with people who dig the crap out of it.
Defining Your Enough
As authors I think we dream of the big leagues. It’s the rare author who goes into this career without at least some inkling of a dream of reaching its highest heights: the New York Times bestseller list, the seven-figure book deals sold at auction, the movie adaptations.
Those are heady dreams indeed. But only a minute fraction of authors ever achieve them. Organizing your career plans around it is like creating a business plan based on winning the lottery.
What is enough? What would make your work feel worthwhile?
I think we can get so caught up in the quantity of fans and followers we may attain we might forget about the meaning of our work. I’ve seen authors do social media lifts designed to get them dozens or even hundreds of new followers—but what value do those really have if they are not vibing personally to your work? If they’re not your equivalent of Hutch-heads?
It’s not those banks of tepid followers who are going to make your work feel worthwhile—or even buy it. It’s the true believers, the proselytizers.
The night of Eric Hutchinson’s sold-out Austin show we took two friends to see him for the first time. They were willing to go see an artist they’d never heard of based on how much I told them I loved his music.
Maybe they’ll join the Hutch-head herd. Maybe they won’t. But that’s two new potential fans who discovered his work because of me, a superfan, spreading the word in a way that they trusted. A genuine way. A way that no number of blind meaningless retweets can replicate.
Now I’m sharing his story and his music with you, and maybe you’ll go check him out too.
When Would You Quit?
Here’s a little mental check-in I have used throughout my entire career in both editing and when I was a journalist and an actor: If somebody told me right now that I would never hit the heights I dreamed of, would I continue to do what I do?
With editing and my teaching and writing, that’s been an easy yes, day after day after day.
Interestingly, asking myself that question was why I quit acting, many years ago—in a bit of a backward way. I started actually thinking about what my life would look like if I did hit the greatest heights an actor could hope for, and I realized that I didn’t want to be famous and lose privacy and anonymity. I didn’t want to always be worrying about the next younger actor coming up behind me taking my roles, or scrambling to stay relevant.
And knowing that, I realized that the day-to-day wasn’t fulfilling enough to me either. There was a time I loved acting so much I would have done it for free (and did! too often), but at that point I knew I didn’t love it enough anymore to want to do it for its own sake. I’d been chasing a brass ring that I suddenly realized I didn’t actually want, and I wasn’t really enjoying the journey anymore either.
Eventually it was the same with my fiction writing (under my pen name, Phoebe Fox). I was enjoying the process until I wasn’t, and I haven’t done it in years, instead focusing on what does feed my soul right now: my editing work, and writing and speaking and teaching about the writing craft, business, and life.
I can’t imagine ever going back to acting—I realize now it wasn’t my true passion. Maybe I’ll go back to fiction and maybe I won’t—it’s not really my true passion either.
Maybe, one day, I might realize that even my editing/teaching work that does feel like my passion isn’t anymore, or isn’t at that time. Maybe I’ll find something new that is.
Or maybe, like Eric Hutchinson, I’ll just keep at it—keep showing up, keep doing the work, keep feeding my soul and looking for the people I connect with over that purpose I feel.
Maybe, when you sit down to write on your current work in progress, day after day after day, you will too.
If someone told you you’d never achieve your biggest dreams as a writer, would you keep doing it? What would make you want to stop? What’s your threshold for continuing to pursue a writing career? In other words, what goals would someone have to tell you you’d never achieve to decide this career isn’t worth it to you anymore? And does the answer to that shift your thinking about why you write?
Tiffany Yates Martin has spent nearly thirty years as an editor in the publishing industry, working with major publishers and NYTimes, WaPo, WSJ, and USA Today bestselling, award-winning authors as well as indie and newer writers, and is the founder of FoxPrint Editorial and author of the Amazon bestseller Intuitive Editing: A Creative and Practical Guide to Revising Your Writing. She leads workshops and seminars for conferences and writers’ groups across the country and is a frequent contributor to writers’ sites and publications. Under the pen name Phoebe Fox, she’s the author of six novels.
What an interesting question you pose, Tiffany! You’ve flipped the question we generally ask ourselves—about what would have to happen for us to feel as if we’d reached our goal and “succeeded?” [In fact, I wrote about this right here on WU, using a strategy in Solution-Focused Therapy called “The Miracle Question” in which the therapist asks the person: “Suppose you woke up tomorrow and your dreams had magically come true? What would be different? ” – see: https://staging-writerunboxed.kinsta.cloud/2022/06/15/the-miracle-question-walking-backward-to-what-do-i-really-want/
The “real answer” is often quite different from what one thought, of course. Simpler, more intimate. Less visible to the world, perhaps. More private and surprising … Thus, it can be a good way to get at one’s true goals, and the markers of having met those goals.
So too, your question.
If I knew for sure (as, in fact, I do) that I would never make the NYT best-seller list or win the National Book Award, would I keep writing? Of course! That I would never get a six-figure deal from a major publisher? You bet! Never get picked by Oprah or Reese or Jenna, sell a million books, do a multi-city book tour that’s paid for by someone else? So what? As the markers become more and more modest, I draw closer to what actually matters to me …
And closer to the simple answer that I would only stop if I lost interest in writing, and it no longer made me feel joyous and alive.
That said, I need to acknowledge that this is the privileged attitude of someone who isn’t trying to, and doesn’t need to, support herself and her family by writing. It is the attitude of someone for whom writing is art, creativity, hobby, call if what you like. But not a “job.”
That’s another conversation of course, and has as much to do with our society’s attitude toward creativity and the role of art/literature as it does with one’s personal goals and values. I leave that for another blog! Meanwhile, thank you for today’s excellent essay!
Agreed, Barbara–the question helps us focus on the intrinsic rewards of *doing* the thing, whatever “the thing” is–as opposed to the external carrot we’re striving to attain. Process rather than product–which is an underlying principle of the book. We have much more autonomy and control over the former than we do the latter, so putting our focus and efforts and source of satisfaction in what we have agency over, as opposed to the many aspects of this business that we don’t, is a big part of creating a happier and more sustainable writing career. This little check-in question helps me make sure that I’m pursuing something meaningful to me on the day-to-day level–which will yield much more satisfaction than if I’m constantly waiting for my designated brass ring before I can feel happy or satisfied.
I don’t know that I think it’s a question of privilege. I say in the book that writing is a career where the odds of success in the sense of financial rewards–even supporting yourself with a writing income, for the vast majority of writers–are very slim. We have to understand that going in and, if we decide to do it anyway, consider creating an income as part of our career strategy that will allow us to pursue it. When I was an actor, I had a day job to support my acting pursuits–you had to, most of us (only 3% of actors make a living at it), much as most authors do. I wouldn’t call that privilege any more than saying it’s privilege that only an elite few football players can support their family. That’s the nature of the business, and we know that going in. While I agree art has immense value and artists deserve to be paid, in our present environment the reality is that it’s really tough to make a living at it–so if we go into it anyway, we have to accept that from the outset, and plan accordingly.
That said, I think there are more and more avenues for authors to take more control and monetize their work, even amid increasing challenges, and I’m hopeful that the creative industry is shifting in favor of the creators. I’d actually be curious about others’ views on this–authors who are doing it, and industry veterans like Don.
Thanks for the thoughtful comment!
Funny. A friend just sent me this article, as I’m a musician in the middle of writing a book about my experience in the ‘underbelly’ of the music biz. We were the first band to go viral and were unofficially blacklisted. Thus, thirty years later, I’m now playing in a wedding/party band and dealing w/ the infinite idiots on the Jersey shore music scene. I was just asking a friend of mine the hypothetical question “What if The Beatles never got that last minute deal w/ EMI and were out of options? Would they have stayed together? if so, for how long? What about the Stones? If they never got a deal, would Mick be playing in a wedding band or would put his economics degree to use?” What separates someone from being a Chris Martin or a wedding singer? Sure, you have to be talented, but there are plenty of awful songwriters out there with massive success, i.e., Hootie and the Blowfish. Seems like success it’s a combination of luck, fate, and self-confidence. The latter of which I was/am still struggling w/ to this day. Like my mom. Great piece.
Oh, that feels so true to me too, David. I’m always amazed (and sometimes disheartened) at what may find great success/appeal that just doesn’t resonate with me at all–and vice versa: how often I see/read/hear something I consider transformative, extraordinary, that never makes it out of relative obscurity. So much of it has little to do with pure talent–and all of it is so subjective, with so many variables beyond our control (and sometimes our understanding). I’ve seen plenty of wildly successful bestsellers whose success baffles me; and plenty of incredibly affecting, well-wrought works that languish in obscurity. Who can say why? It’s one of so many reasons I think the rewards of our art must be intrinsic. There are too many variables of “success” that have nothing to do with us or the caliber of the work. I hope you continue to find your own satisfaction in your music–and I love that you’re writing about your experience. Thanks for the comment.
Thanks Tiffany. Well put! You too!
Hi Tiffany–First, happy release day, and congratulations on your new book! Can’t wait to dig in.
I think along these lines often. I’ve certainly chosen to keep going, in spite of managing to connect with dozens rather than the thousands of connections I’ll admit I once dreamed were possible. There was a moment that involved you that helped me to realize something important about connection. At last year’s UnCon, you were kind enough to feature an excerpt of one of my essays as you wrapped up a powerful session. I’d been feeling sort of meh about my upcoming book two release. The early reviews had been a mixed bag, and book one hadn’t exactly made any sort of lasting impact.
But in the moment of the reading, with all of my community around me, all focused on my words, delivered in your powerful way, I felt something I hadn’t been fully appreciating. My essays, my presence in the community, our shared fellowship–it all means so much to me. A couple of super kind souls came up to me afterward to tell me how they’d been impacted by my words. Damn, that’s the stuff that lasts. That’s what will fuel the soul and sustain the journey.
I’ve been feeling a bit of the same “meh” about book three’s upcoming release. But being here today, feeling far more than meh about your book, appreciating that those who feel less than meh about my stuff (books, essays, all of it) are the ones who count–it makes all the difference. I’m grateful. Thanks for all you do for writers, and for our community specifically. Wishing you the very best with the book!
Vaughn, this comment is one of those moments I was referring to, when a reward of the work on an individual, human level has so much weight and impact for me. It gave me goosebumps to read that hearing your words reflected back to you in my keynote filled up your soul and let you hear/appreciate them from the perspective so many of us did: as poignant and inspiring and so-relatable truths about the rewards of writing. That essay of yours remains a favorite of mine (I went looking for it–the one about your dad–but can’t remember the title. Would you post it here for others to enjoy?). You captured so beautifully what drives so many of us, what makes this work worthwhile. And honestly, I think of you often and your undauntable resilience and agency in choosing to self-pub your trilogy, to bring your work to readers. I loved our interview on my website about how you reexamined your definition of creative success (https://foxprinteditorial.com/2022/12/01/how-writers-revise-vaughn-roycroft-and-redefining-success/).
Thank you for the comment, and your kind words, and your always warm and genuine support of my and others’ work and careers. You’re a bright light in our community.
I’ve always been a fan of singer/songwriters and have an old Eric Hutchinson song on a playlist from years ago (Okay Is Alright With Me). :-)
As to the question of what makes you feel worthwhile (or, more specifically, what makes your work feel worthy), I agree that the sense of that begins within the writer. Is the writer being authentic in telling the story (not merely writing to tropes or ride commercial trends)? If so, then the work should feel worthy to that writer regardless of sales or “likes” and the rest.
I do wonder something that perhaps those of you who’ve been at this since long before Amazon rankings and social media made career metrics so public: was it easier to feel “worthy” or accomplished when you couldn’t get caught up in comparing and tracking these data points (your own account followers and daily sales ranks, and the inevitable comparisons with your colleagues)? It seems like there would have been a lot fewer distractions meddling with an author’s confidence in the “before” times, but maybe that’s just me fantasizing.
Thanks for the reminder to stay focused on what really matters.
Oh, “Okay Is All Right with Me!” As a lifelong sufferer of perfectionism, this song is one of my anthems! (Eric GETS ME.)
You have always struck me as an author who writes so authentically, just the way you describe it–not “writing to market” (man, I hate that phrase, and the concept) but telling the stories you envision. It’s one of the things I love about your stories–they always feel real, which makes them deeply relatable and engaging and affecting. And you, too, are one of the authors I thought about in writing this book. I love how you have always weathered this business’s infinite vagaries and continue to survive, true to yourself–and to find satisfaction and creative fulfillment in the work (and forge new paths when you need to). ;) I love seeing your success in doing so.
Funny story–as I was finishing up this comment I went to my website to pull this interview you and I did together, where you talk about your career path, and I realized even titled it “Operating from Authenticity”! :D See? You *reek* of authenticity. https://foxprinteditorial.com/2023/08/03/jamie-beck-and-operating-from-authenticity/
Thank you Tiffany. I think about this often. I’ve published more than 20 books, most in non-fiction and two middle grade fiction eco-adventure series. For academic press non-fiction, a few have been relatively successful, but I’ve never really made a profit if you think of all the unfunded time researching, writing, editing, marketing etc. But I love the writing, giving talks and interacting with readers, have been brought to tears (happy) from hugs from students, notes from parents and thumbs up from so many. My first popular science book with my fiance (meteorologist Dave Jones) is coming out next week. We’re super excited, it’s incredibly timely as it is meant to combat misinformation and includes wonderful humorous illustrations. But I also sit here wondering if I will even consider writing another book, can I afford to do it or is it time to move on? I told Dave to hit me over the head if I said I wanted to write another popular science book after my last one, Dangerous Earth, came out as COVID hit – talk about bad timing. I swore I would not write another one, and here I am a week away from a release, wondering if it will be successful, and what does success even mean? Thanks again.
Ellen, congrats on the new book! It sounds extremely timely, and is certainly desperately needed. I’ll seek it out.
I loved your comment–it’s so much of the truths of this career. It’s hard! So much harder than we might imagine when we begin it, and in ways we might never have expected–external and internal. And yet, like you, I find I keep coming back to it. I was pulling my hair out toward the end of writing this new book…and yet already I’m looking to the next one that I had had in development when this one started poking at me more insistently. (That one has ALSO been kicking my ass…and yet part of me can’t wait to get back to it and keep cracking the nut.)
Like you, I find the work of this career rewarding, but what I love most are the interactions: teaching and speaking, working with authors’ manuscripts in the editing process, and seeing lightbulbs go off, seeing them get their manuscripts where they wanted them to go, seeing their successes and joy as their stories are shared with others. It’s like being a midwife to creativity, and I adore it on the daily. Even amid the hard parts. (ASK me about writing/teaching about POV. GAH.)
My books aren’t the main avenue of my income. Nor is my teaching/speaking. But they pack outsize rewards, as you point out in your own career: the connections you make, and knowing you’re helping people with your work.
That said, I’m also a big believer in rest. Sometimes you have to fill the well–and sometimes maybe you lose your fire for what you had loved for a while, and that’s okay too. Maybe it’ll come back and maybe it won’t–but that doesn’t negate the rewards and the joy you derived from having done it. We change. I was thinking about what I’d said in this post about realizing acting was never my passion, nor writing fiction–but I realized this morning that the truth is, for a while they were. And then they weren’t. And that’s just fine. I think we have to be willing to let ourselves evolve, and to examine periodically how we’re feeling and what we want and if it’s the same as it has been in the past–and be willing to let go and make room for something new, if that’s what feels right. It doesn’t mean we’ll never go back–as with you and your next book. That door is always open. It just means that if we walk through it again, it will be something we actively choose. And isn’t that wonderful? Thanks for this great comment.
Thank you Tiffany and good luck on your new book too. Yes, I feel like I’ve already been through several careers and had that realization too. As a marine scientist, I once did research, taught, and was an assistant dean at a prestigous graduate school, but realized it wasn’t where my heart was. And like you, that was okay. But you’re 100% right, we have to recognize it’s okay to evolve and change our goals and passions. Good luck, thanks for the note and the post!!!!
Does it matter whether your book is purchased or is borrowed from a library? Does it matter if you sell 127 more or 127 fewer copies than of your last release?
Does it matter if you are invited to speak at a conference or not? Does it matter if your latest book is listed in two roundups and not four? He’ll, does it matter if you are recognized on the street?
No, it does not. What matters is that someone is reading your words. How many? More or less than are reading mine? It doesn’t matter! You are being read.
If more people read my next book than I will meet in a year, then that is something. Better than that is that I wrote that book, met the challenge I set myself and had a blast doing it.
Who gives a damn about NYTBSL? That is for a limited number of writers, mostly of fiction that is written to be popular. Nothing wrong with that, but I have an audience of my own.
Today that audience you, the person who is reading these words right at this moment. Does yesterday matter or tomorrow? No, what matters is right now, these words, and if they are connecting with another human being.
Looking forward to your new book, Ms. Yates Martin. If it’s as good as this post, I’ll be thrilled.
Mr. Brinks, you’re always so da#n inspiring!
I feel the same way, Benjamin–those individual connections matter so much to me, and are always the rewards that I find most nourishing. But it’s so EASY to get caught up in the numbers, the rankings, the dolla-dolla bills as the ultimate arbiters of our work’s worth. Commodified creativity comes with a lot of baggage for creators. Overcoming that mindset is a big part of creating the firm, stable foundation required in growing a successful, satisfying, sustainable career for ourselves. So many of the main rewards of this business are intrinsic–which means they are within our control…which is where we derive that potent sense of agency and autonomy in our careers. But we live in an external-rewards world and industry that can distract us from that unshakable core where our power and happiness lie.
Thanks for the kind word–and your always thoughtful comments.
I’ll start off by saying I like this post. It makes you stop and think about your priorities. With that said, I began writing just because I enjoy it. I’m not dreaming of being a #1 in any category and if I sell a few book here and there and someone enjoys them, I’m good to go. Here’s the thing, being an #1 best seller means you now have to repeat that and I’m too old to get on that treadmill. That means I write what I want, I self-publish and do a bit of marketing, but I don’t expect to ever make it beyond a few people who enjoy the books. I focus on writing the best I can and turning out a decent book that entertains and maybe teach a few things in the process. I’ll leave fame and fortune to those who really want it and just enjoy what I’m doing–telling a story I enjoy reading.
Somehow, B.A., that’s always been my outlook too. I was reflecting this morning that when I was an actor, it was the rehearsal I loved best. Performance was nice because we got to share our work with an audience, and that connection is always rewarding–but I so loved the process of creation: finding the character, filling it out, discovering layers and levels, creating a world little by little with the other actors and the hard work of the crew giving us a setting, costumes, props…all bringing it to life together. I don’t miss acting in the sense of performing at all–but I do miss those things.
It’s the same feeling I get in my work now, though–overall, like you I love the process of it, for its own sake. I never expected to get rich or famous from this career (because I am a practical and realistic soul!). I just wanted to do something I loved every damn day, on my own terms, and so for 30 years I’ve been a happy, happy freelance editor. That day-to-day satisfaction, to me, is infinitely more valuable than chasing some big brass-ring jackpot I hope to attain one of these days. I’ve had thousands of days of contentment and pleasure and creative reward already.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts on this too. It sounds like you’re also already enjoying your writing career day by day by wonderful, privileged creative day.
Congrats on your new book, Tiffany. Your work helps writers! That is a gift. As a former teacher and nurse, helping people in any construct fulfills you at the end of the day. And Yes, I would love to see my novel in print. But this journey might be winding down, though the joy of creation never will. That is why writers often have OTHER PURSUITS that they follow. A creative person, as you and so many here are, must apply that creativity in other areas. That’s not quitting….that’s letting creative juices expand. Or, am I make excuses…still I write, and here I say once again, CONGRATULATIONS. Beth
Thank you, Beth! You hit the nail on the head for me–helping writers is the greatest reward I can imagine in my career. It feels fantastic every single time I feel I’ve offered something useful and of value that helps them achieve their creative goals–that’s my version of the intrinsic rewards of my own creative work. (Because I do regard editing as a creative pursuit, even as much as it’s also analytical. I think it’s because it involves both of those things that I love it so much, actually.) As a former teacher and nurse, I know you can relate to that–helping is so nourishing.
And I agree with you in a full-throated roar about life being more than just our art, and creativity having many facets–and that stopping in the pursuit of one avenue of our creativity isn’t quitting at all. It’s being a vibrant, organic, responsive, complex, endlessly evolving human. And what is “quitting” anyway? Those doors rarely close completely–if I want to go back to writing fiction one day, I will. Hell, I’d go back to acting if I ever wanted to. But I don’t want to right now. I think we judge ourselves harshly if we rest or focus our creative efforts elsewhere: we “gave up,” we “quit,” we “didn’t have what it takes.” Bullshit. We evolved like any healthy living organism–and we continued to follow our passions. Brava to those with the courage to do so.
It reminds me of Kathryn Magendie’s post here back in 2020, during COVID, part of which I quoted in my book (with her permission), about one of her own fallow periods when she contentedly stepped away from her own writing:
“Oh, the freedom just to walk around as My-Self and not as Novelist. I tasted and explored and did stupid as hell crap and did smart as not-hell crap; I lived the life I normally gave to my characters. I busted out all over and created chaos and memories and that will enrich my writing if I’d sit down and actually do any.”
Isn’t that marvelous? And validating and joyful? How can that be anything but positive? Here’s teh full, beautiful post: https://staging-writerunboxed.kinsta.cloud/2020/12/01/royalties-what-this-writer-made-once-upon-one-time/
Thanks for this thought-provoking comment, Beth–and your kind wishes!
Tiffany wrote…Bullshit. We evolved like any healthy living organism–and we continued to follow our passions. Brava to those with the courage to do so.
THIS WILL BE MAKDE INTO WALL ART….hugs, Beth
HAHAHAHA! Okay, well, that made my day. :)
I don’t think I’ll stop – but success at first bloom will be finishing my mainstream trilogy, the last book of which, LIMBO, I’ve been writing for several years, and which probably has several more years to go.
Fortunately, each volume has been a step up in ‘game,’ an increase in the tension and the story goals and the necessary writing and real-world skills, and this one will – when I finish it – more than fulfill what I set out to do in the year 2000, not knowing that it was a massive project, and one NOT suited to the writer I was at the time.
After that – who knows?
I have no space in the constricted life of a chronically ill writer for the extras – cons, classes, groups, other pursuits, deliberate time ‘off’ – but I have been supported for years by a huge online community of writers, and that has been more than enough.
If I am able to continue, I will continue. Two volumes down in spite of everything is no mean success for someone who probably shouldn’t be spending time on something this complex, and has been forced to develop methods no one else uses just to be able to plot and write and edit.
I hope to affect the world, and that’s worth it. Being disabled is not the disaster many people think it is. One of my models is Flannery O’Connor, who wrote for many years in spite of the ravages of lupus, complications of which lead to her death at 39 – and is still read.
I’m sorry to hear about your health challenges, Alicia, and the ways it narrows some of the things you’d like to do. But I’m happy to hear you have a robust online writing community–that’s one of the wonderful things about social media and modern technology. (Some good, some bad, like everything…!) Congrats on finishing two volumes of your trilogy. That IS no mean feat (as Vaughn Roycroft will no doubt second). :) But I do think it matters–not just for you, as it clearly does, but we never can know what of our work may mean the world to someone else. We have to share our stories. Good luck with volume three!
I don’t envy writers this struggle.
As I’ve said in the past, I write because I can’t think of anything better to do. I’ve written two novels I’m proud of. I think they’re good stories. I think if I can get them published, other people will enjoy them. I’d welcome that validation, recognition, and any financial reward that came with it. But even if they are never published, the experience of writing them, the joy of creation, the learning, the contact with other like minds, the struggles, all of it, has been very rewarding. I want to write more novels.
The work of trying to find an agent and publication is not rewarding in itself. It’s not punishing, but it’s not rewarding except that when I’ve taken a step I think may bring me closer to representation, there’s a little satisfaction. But what I want is to get back to writing.
I’d stop writing if it stopped being rewarding, or maybe if I found something more rewarding. But I can’t imagine what it would be.
It sounds like you know–and have always known–your core “why,” Bob: where you get the intrinsic rewards of this pursuit. I think that’s such a key factor in how content and satisfied we are with our careers and our work.
If you want to share your work, indie-publishing (self-pub) is a wonderful, viable, accessible way to do it. And if you’re happy just as you are and don’t care whether you share it or not, that’s valid too. There’s something lovely about connecting with others through our work–but there are plenty of intrinsic satisfactions in the mere doing of it, too. I mentioned in a comment above how much I always loved rehearsals when I was an actor–even more than performing. Honestly, if we’re not enjoying the *doing* of this thing at least as much as the “having done it,” then what is the point? It’s our day-to-day that constitutes a life, and the tenor of it–not the occasional highs and lows.
Thanks for sharing your perspective. Always nice seeing you in the comments–here and on my own website!
Tiffany, thank you for sharing Eric’s story of perseverance and your thoughts on checking in with oneself on a regular basis–my natural cycle is to do this a couple of times a year, usually in the fall and again at the beginning of the year. I came to writing later in life, after being a scientist for 15 yrs. I quit when I was in-between labs and discovered I was pregnant with my first baby. I started writing when I had my second baby. It’s been 20+ years and I know this is what I’m meant to do. From earliest childhood I was writing letters due to a fractured family so it is how I know to make a connection. That, and music. Even when I don’t pursue publication, I’m writing. The joy has always been in creating. Would I stop? If I became blind, maybe. But I’d beg my husband to help me find a good solution. If I lost my mind, I suppose I wouldn’t care. But until then… writing is in my power. I’ve said this before, I will die pen in hand and a psalm upon my lips.
Congratulations on the publication of your new book! I look forward to reading; I’ve enjoyed reading your posts here very much.
Thanks, Vijaya, for your good wishes and kind words! I love that you already instinctively check in with yourself regularly to see what you want, whether your motivations or goals have shifted. It’s easy to forget to do that, I think–I remember when I quit acting, I’d been unhappy for a while but never questioned my acting career as the source of it, that my priorities had shifted. It was how I had identified myself since I was a kid, all I ever thought I wanted to do. I Rolodexed through my brain for months, trying to identify my dissatisfaction and unrest, and then when I considered quitting acting it was almost like a joke–like, “Well, what if I cut off my arm, maybe that’s the problem, haha!” But as soon as I asked myself the question, I literally started smiling and couldn’t stop. I remember actually thinking immediately at the time, “Oh, NO…” because I knew that second that I was done with it. And I didn’t know what came next!
I think that opens up a freedom for us as artists, though, to pursue our passions, explore our creativity, stay open to everything. And to honor ourselves as evolving, organic creative beings–and humans. It also adds value to our writing–or whatever we’re pursuing–because we’re *choosing* it, over and over–the way you describe your feelings about your own writing.
Thanks for sharing this.
Tiffany, three cheers and a tiger (as they used to say in Mark Twain’s day) on your new book! I signed up for your webinar with Jane Friedman on writing demons, but missed it live, but I will check out the replay tomorrow. Thanks for your explorations—which put me in mind of some of Kevin Kelly’s ideas in his 1000 True Fans essay—of the mixed meanings of writing success, and the myriad feelings around the term. https://kk.org/thetechnium/1000-true-fans/
I haven’t been a skilled success shepherd for my books, having tried to lead them (I never was good with directions) to a reader river, but never dipping in.
I have a full draft of a new book now, but I’ve been sitting on it, hoping a plan for its life will hatch. But there’s always delight, really, in the play of language, narrative ideas whispered or shouted, characters with clout or who need to be clouted. I have received some warm words from some readers now and then, and as several folks here have suggested, that is often enough. Thanks for putting these words in motion.
Thanks, Tom! And I hope you enjoy the demons webinar–it might be my favorite–and certainly most personal–presentation I’ve ever done. :) (It’s here for anyone who’s interested–https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvM9QG04mYU–about those common demons that plague artist (and humans): impostor syndrome, comparison, competition, procrastination, self-doubt, etc.)
I know that Kelly essay and also found it inspiring in how we think about those who resonate to our work, and what is meaningful to us about the sharing of it.
I love that you take delight in the process of your writing–it’s the foundation of a happier writing career. But do I detect a hesitant note in your comments about not yet sharing it more widely? It’s always a risk–but also such a reward, kind of closing the circle of creativity in a way. You’ve given life to the thing, and now you let it out in the world to lead a life of its own–one you can’t influence and that may or may not go as you plan or hope, but which feels like completing the circuit on the process. I do encourage you, if it’s fear holding you back rather than not feeling a desire to share the work, to consider freeing it into the world. It sounds like you’ve gotten what you need from it already–maybe it’s time to allow others to take what they may from it too?
Congrats in any case on completing the draft, and on your enjoyment of the process. That’s such a big part of what we often battle with (as you may see in the demons presentation!). Thanks for the comment.
If God came down from wherever they’ve been hiding and told me I would never get an agent or see another book published, I’d still write. I can’t not write. Master Lu-tsu (The Secret of the Golden Flower) said, “One cannot be without imaginings. Should one not breathe? One cannot do without breathing.”
Isn’t it lovely to know that down to your soul? That’s one reason I love the question. It may result in some lettings-go that you didn’t anticipate or even think you wanted (as with my response to Vijaya above about my own truncated acting career), but it can also show you, day after day after day, that you’re doing exactly what you are most called to do. Thanks for the comment, Marcy.